


Confessions

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Kane (Band), Leverage RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bisexuality, Explicit Language, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sexual Tension, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has an admirer, Steve has a jealous breakdown, and Jensen plays a gay Dear Abby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

"Al? He's a sweet kid, Steve. But that's all he is. A kid."

I have no idea why we're even discussing Aldis Hodge in a hotel room after a concert in Cleveland. We'd rocked the house down and I, reveling in the adrenalin, had called Aldis as soon as we got off stage to share the good news. Aldis was becoming a good friend. Odd with him being so young, but he's cool in that uniquely non-Hollywood way so few actors are anymore.

"He worships you," Steve counters. The man is obviously upset and for the life of me I can't figure out why.

"Like I said, he's a kid." I smile slightly, amused at Steve's words. Steve catches it before I'm able to hide it.

"A kid who would bend over in a heartbeat if you asked him to!"

My jaw drops in shock. "First of all, he's not gay or bi or curious so that's not gonna happen. Second, why the hell would he be interested in me? Third, HE'S A FUCKIN' KID!" Jesus! "Why are we even arguing about him?!" I have known Carlson so long he feels more like blood than some of my own relatives, but right now the man is acting like a total stranger. "Even if he did want me I don't 'do gay' so isn't this all pointless anyway?"

"Pointless? POINTLESS?!" Steve's hands curl into angry fists, disturbing me even more. "Fuck!"

Steve storms past me to open the door. I watch it automatically close behind him, torn between wanting to chase after him and wanting to let him to stew in whatever shit is in his head. I purse my lips and take a breath. A wild Steve was not a cautious Steve. He could get himself into some serious shit. I grumble the whole time I grab my wallet and room key and rush out, not stopping when I run into an employee with a cleaning cart. I do apologize for the cussing she has to endure as she passes, then resume once I reach the hotel bar and spot a familiar face sitting alone downing amber liquid.

I sit down quickly, not giving Steve a chance to tell me to leave. "So..."

Steve puts his glass down on the bar and orders another Jack on the rocks.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" As soon as it comes out I know it's the wrong thing to say but it's too late. Steve turns ice blue eyes on me. If looks could kill I'd be nothing but smoke and ash right about now. "What's happening here, Steve?" I try again, more gently.

Steve drinks the Jack like a shot and asks for yet another. The bartender, sensing he needs it, offers the rest of the bottle for free. The blonde grabs it and stalks away. I thank the bartender with an absent-minded wave of my hand and trail after him. I find him in the alley beside the hotel, leaning wearily against the grimy brick wall as he swigs from the bottle. It's not until I take the bottle away and Steve makes a delayed grab for it that I realize he's crying.

"Steve, what is going on with you?" I beg gruffly, scared. Steve never cries.

"You really don't get it, do you?" His head drops, defeated. "That 'kid', as you call him, is in love with you. He doesn't know it yet, and neither do you. But he is. And one of these days he's gonna make it clear."

I shake my head. "I think you're seein’ things that ain't there. But even if he does have feelings for me, what does it matter? I'm not in love with him. So where is this coming from?"

"You think I don't know what way you swing? With all the girls you screw on a constant basis? You think you don't make me aware of that fact all the fucking time?" The words bother me for some reason. Mainly because Steve has stopped yelling. Now he sounds so resigned, as if he's finally given up struggling. And I still don't understand.

"You callin' me a slut, son?" Nothing wrong with a healthy sexual appetite, is there? As long as I protect myself and my partners it's all gravy, right?

Steve continues like I haven't said a word. "And why wouldn't everyone want you? You're Christian _fucking_ Kane. How can they not? The women at the concerts watching your every move. The men at the gyms we go to. I mean, Jesus, all day, every day. Every single day, Chris." He hangs his head even lower. If I hadn't been paying attention I might've missed what Steve says next but I don't miss a word. "And I'm right here," he murmurs softly.

I put the words into different contexts, working to make them fit whatever he's trying to say but nothing makes sense. Steve lost me a long time ago.

"I'm right here," he repeats. "And you don't see me. Because I'm a man. Because I'm your friend. Because of so many other reasons that don't mean anything. You don't see me, standing right here in front of you, wanting to share your life, because you're so goddamn busy looking at everyone else who wants to share your bed for a night." With nothing else to say Steve shoves off from the wall and begins to walk away.

It hits me then. It finally sinks in. And I have no idea what to do. One of my best friends, a straight man, has just confessed to being in love with me. The funny thing is that I actually am bi. When I've had a lot to drink and I’m too damn horny to care what gender a person is. I've never told Steve about the few guys I've slept with. But for me it was always just fucking. What Steve wants is everything I have to give, everything I am...

"...Steve...," Steve stops, turning to face me. "I don't.....I'm not-"

"I know, Chris," Steve interrupts. "Believe me, I know." He turns back again, moving farther and farther away. "I'll see you on the bus in the morning," he calls out before turning a corner.

I keep looking at the corner, expecting Steve to come back with a grin on his face, a ready laugh and 'I got you good.' But he doesn't come back. I wait, holding the bottle of Jack, and still, no Steve. Sure, there's been a time or two when I've entertained the idea of kissing Steve, of running my fingers through his hair. Steve is sexy, sweet, a little crazy, fun, an amazing singer and songwriter. Beautiful. I always figured if I ever decided to settle down with one of my own it'd be Steve. Or Jensen. But Jensen has Jared, whether he takes advantage on those cold Vancouver nights or not. And Steve? Now Steve is gone after dropping a big-ass whopper of a secret on me. Not like I really ever wanted a relationship with another man...

I go back up to the room carrying the Jack, drinking occasionally as I fight with myself on what to do next. Without question I love Steve more than I've let myself love anyone. Steve makes sure of that in his own quiet ways. But I'm not in love with him, am I? Steve has a dick and no matter how I try to look past that it keeps popping up into the argument. It's one thing to let a guy give you a blow job, to fuck a guy. It's a whole different story when letting yourself do the blowing, being on the receiving end-

My cell phone sings out in Steve's voice, making me jump.

"Yeah?" I answer hesitantly, wishing I'd thought to check caller ID.

"Is that any way to answer your phone, Kane? What if I was your mama callin'?" Jensen chuckles.

"Damn, I'm glad it's you," I blurt before I can stop myself.

"Well, I'm glad it's me, too, then. Something wrong?"

I find myself telling Jensen everything. From the argument over Aldis supposedly having feelings for me to Steve walking away from me with tears in his eyes. Throughout the speech Jensen is silent. Even when I recount Steve's desperate confession. Once I’m done I rub my forehead, willing the coming headache from hell to go back home.

"So let me get this straight. No pun intended." I want to laugh, only it's not all that funny. "Steve thinks Aldis is in love with you."

"Yup."

"And he thinks everyone wants to sleep with the almighty Christian _fucking_ Kane."

"Yup," I repeat, sighing.

"And Steve is not gay."

"Got it right so far, son."

"But wants to have your babies." Somehow I can tell Jensen is serious.

"Basically." How do I get myself into these messes? I know that's what the man on the other end of the line is thinking because I'm thinking it too.

"Huh..." I swallow a gulp of the Jack as I wait. "Well, he is right about Aldis. Although I'm not sure he'd bend over that easily. Even for you."

Luckily the liquor is working its way down my throat or it'd be spraying all over the floor. "What?!"

"Well, the kid does look at you like the sun rises and sets out of your ass."

If Jensen agrees with Steve's observations maybe it's not such an extreme idea after all. "But maybe he'll never do anything about it, you know? Or it could turn into friendly affection. Friendly _manly_ affection."

"That ain't what you should be concerned with right now, Kane. What're you gonna do about Steve?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," I respond, exasperated.

"Think he'll bail on the tour?"

"Steve? Hell no!" No matter what else is happening in his life Steve will always perform. "But he may bail on me."

"You want him to?"

That's the part I'm waiting on inspiration for.

"No, but...It's Steve, you know? Steve! I just never...I mean he...He said....."

Jensen is silent a second, as if trying to politely or intelligently say whatever is on his mind. Then, finally, "Sounds like a definite 'no' to me, Chris," he remarks tenderly. "Even sounds like some part of you is asking for the same thing he is."

"Jenny, I can't," I whisper.

"Then let him go."

I close his eyes, unable to imagine a Steve-free world. "Can't do that either." It slips out before I can reel it back in. I hope it's quiet enough that Jensen missed it. I hope with all my might. Only thing is I'm never that lucky.

"You think maybe you just might want to have his babies too. And that makes you less than a man. Cause at least if you top you're still in control." The truth packs an exceptionally powerful one-two punch to my gut. It's obvious from his tone that Jensen is or has pondered his own feelings for Jared and knows exactly what bothers me.

I groan inwardly.

"You'll lose him if you keep thinking like that. And it's not exactly flattering to Steve's manhood either." Jensen inhales, then takes the plunge. "Look, Chris, I get that you're scared. Who isn't when it comes to shit like this? And I know it's hard to deal with. But you just gotta suck it up and go for it. Otherwise he'll move on to someone else and, believe me, that will feel worse than this."

"Shut up," I grumble. I hate it when Jensen is right.

"You're welcome. Now, since I actually was just calling to check on you I'm gonna hang up so you can try and catch your man. Good luck!"

With that said all I hear next is a dial tone. I hang up too, stranded in my own heart. Which, for me, is a dangerous place to be. Just because I write songs about feelings doesn't mean I'm on a first-name basis with them. Jensen knows it too, just like he knows he can't help me wade through them. This doesn't make me feel any better.

Fortunately it doesn't take long for me to admit life without Steve is no life at all. And life with a kissing, cuddling, courting Steve kind of scares and excites me. I need to find him to tell him about this epiphany that took neither alcohol nor sex to occur to me. If I can find him. Herein lay the tricky part since the bastard could be anywhere.

The first place I look is, somehow, the right place to look. As soon as I step onto the tour bus I see a single blonde head of hair sitting in the middle on the seats, his head hanging lower than it ever has before.

"I was hoping I'd find you here." Should I sit next to him? Should I not?

"Go back to the hotel, Kane."

Steve Carlson really is not a crier. Not usually. Despite growing up in California. I say this because he has to be in some serious pain when he occasionally does cry. And I can tell from the thickness of his voice that this is exactly what he's doing now. Again. No thanks to me. I purposely sit down next to him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

I blink and take a breath for courage. "No can do. 'Cause as long as you're here, I'm here."

When the head raises and I see moisture in his gaze, I wince, a sudden sharp pain racing through my chest. "Please," Steve begs softly, desperately.

The pain gets worse the longer I stare at him. "Don't make me go..." I reach over, placing a warm hand on Steve's knee. I squeeze gently, needing contact, wanting to offer comfort. Steve literally flinches as soon as my hand touches him. Once I realize I'm not helping I immediately remove it. "Steve..."

"Why are you even here? Isn't there some girl spreading her legs in a bar bathroom somewhere?" he chokes out bitterly.

"Hey!" I should be insulted but Steve's right. I do have a habit of hooking up with one-night-stands in not-so-classy places. "Come on now. I mean what do you expect from me?"

Steve stares straight into my eyes. He’s looking so hard it feels like he's looking into my soul. I consider turning away but I'm paralyzed. Finally Steve faces the seat in front of him again.

"Not enough?" he mumbles. I take hold of his chin and turn it toward me. "Too much, Kane. I expect too much. Or at least more than you're capable of giving." For a second time my jaw drops. When did Steve become a woman?! "And I know what you're thinking. My dick is still very much attached. But that's still not the point."

I don't let go of his chin though he fights to pull away. "Then tell me. What is the point?"

"You. Me. The fact that I've been in love with you pretty much since we met and you sleep around with everyone else but me. The fact that I'd spend forever with you if you wanted me to..." Steve's eyes keep calling to some part of me buried deep inside. Seeing me like that, and wanting me anyway, kicks up an urge to hold him and never let him go.

"That's what I don't get. You could have anyone you wanted. Why the hell would you choose me?"

Steve snorts. "I didn't choose you, asshole. It just happened. And now I'm stuck with you." He laughs but the sound starts to catch in his throat. He shakes his head. I release his chin, not sure what to say or how much to say. I never have been too great with words. "I never had a choice, Chris. It's just always been you."

Steve turns his head away again, showing me his profile. I watch it, his high cheekbone, the wrinkles around his eye, his laugh line. Before I can stop myself I run a fingertip lightly along his jaw line, tracing it, all the while thinking how easy it is to touch this man. No awkwardness, no revulsion. It's automatic. Steve obviously needing to feel it, me needing to do it. Like a reflex. And neither of us stops it. Steve slowly faces me, his eyebrows raised in confused surprise. I’m pretty sure now is definitely not the time chicken out. If I don't do something I will lose him and that is something I'm unwilling to do, no matter what the price.

"Oh, fuck it," I murmur right before planting my lips on his. When the man gasps into my mouth I take advantage of the opportunity to slip my tongue in.

The kiss is everything I'd imagined it would be. Steve's lips are firm, plump, and made for it. He kisses like a drowning man seeking dry land. I moan involuntarily, a little overwhelmed by how good Steve tastes. All this time I've been wasting on strangers...Steve answers with a moan of his own, shifting closer. His hand clamps down on my inner thigh, causing a shiver to run through me. My inner thighs have always been sensitive. Leave it to Steve find that out straight off…When I pull back a little to breathe Steve whimpers, his eyes darker now, cloudier. He grabs my hair, pulls me onto his lap, presses his hips up and kisses me more aggressively. My nerve endings tingle, showing me exactly how much I like it.

Next thing I know I’m shirtless, grinding down into Steve's crotch, grunting as Steve gets harder and harder, wondering how the whole 'bottoming' thing works. Because right now? If the man wanted it, I might, probably, hell, would bend over one of the seat backs and let Steve have his way with me. I’m thinking maybe as long as no one knows it's no big deal. Besides, with the constant moaning of my sex partner as proof, I'm still _the_ Christian _fucking_ Kane...


End file.
